


First Christmases

by Brooklyns_Late



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: AU where the school system is functional, But their experiences aren't all at the same time as eachother, Good pure platonic Ralbert, Happy Higgins Fam, Light Angst, Not so happy Spot, Redfinch is not, Sprace is endgame, linear timeline, with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:54:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brooklyns_Late/pseuds/Brooklyns_Late
Summary: A series of Christmastime firsts throughout the lives of Spot and Race.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies), Racetrack Higgins & Albert DaSilva, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 20
Kudos: 27





	1. True Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> So the PLAN is to post a chapter everyday up to Christmas. Thing is I have three and a half chapters written as of now and I know myself so I can't promise anything after that.  
> The good thing is, each chapter kind of has an end in it's own right so it's not too bad.  
> Enjoy, and give me lots of peer pressure because I'll need it. :-)

**Race (Six months)**

Christmas was a loud occasion in the Higgins household. With the entire family together, the house was filled with laughter and noisy Italian chatter. Especially surrounding the newest addition to the family.

_"Oh Maria, isn't he sweet!"_

_"We haven't seen him in months!"_

_"He's gotten so big!"_

Maria Higgins beamed as her family gushed over the baby in her lap. Baby Antonio was her first son but her fourth child and yet, the family was no less excited than they had been for the first.

_"Mama, can we open presents soon?"_

Maria looked up to see her youngest daughters, Caterina and Gianna. She smiled.

_"Sure girls, let’s get your cousins."_

_"Can I bring Toni over Mama?"_ Gianna looked down at her little brother hopefully, she was thrilled to be an older sister and had wanted to be around her little brother as much as possible for the last six months. Maria helped her youngest daughter get the baby situated in her arms before watching her walk off carefully to meet Rosanna, her oldest. She smiled as she took in the room. Her family was scattered all over, smiling, laughing, talking. Maria Higgins loved Christmas. It was a time for family.

* * *

**Spot (Five weeks)**

Christmas day came with loud voices from a tiny, run down Brooklyn apartment. The holiday was, for most, filled with the loud chatter and laughter of families spending time together and enjoying the holiday, but this was a different kind of noise. This noise came in the form of a young couple, yelling over the sound of a television in their small, barren living room.

Just one room over, an infant was beginning to fuss in his crib, the sound drowned entirely out by the argument in the main room.

"You can't keep doing this Em! It isn't just you anymore! You've got other people think about now!"

"Shut up James! This isn't your problem!"

"It is my problem Emma! You may be the only one drinking yourself stupid but you've got others to think about! You've got me, and more importantly, you've got Sean! You can't just go around getting hammered and expect it to be fine!" Both paused for a moment as a loud wail came from the bedroom. Emma Conlon glared at her husband as she dropped onto the old couch, grabbing a half empty beer bottle from the floor next to her.

"Would you shut him up?"

James sighed with resignation before tuning and heading towards the bedroom.

"Hey buddy," He whispered sadly as he lifted his son from the old crib, "It's gonna be okay. Don't cry. I've got you." The infant's screams began to subside as his father whispered gently. "Merry Christmas Sean... You're gonna have so many better ones I promise. We'll stick together, you and me."

In the Conlon household, Christmas was just like any other day.


	2. New Places

**Race (Six years)**

Antonio liked the USA. It was different and a little weird but, exciting. He had always loved adventures after all. Over the past two months, he had begun getting used to his new home. It had been awkward starting school a month into the year, especially since he spent half of each day in an ESL class, and the other half, being accompanied by an EA. Making friends was hard when you didn't speak their language very well and he was always glad to get home and slip back into his comfortable first language.

Christmas break was upon them and with that, came a new adventure: their first Christmas in America. It was going to be strange; the house wasn't quite put together yet, and the rest of the family was back home in Italy. It was to be the least extravagant Christmas of his life. The size of the occasion however, didn't dampen his excitement at all. Antonio loved Christmas with all his heart and was thrilled to celebrate no matter where he was.

Christmas day came and Antonio couldn't have been more excited. He woke to snow on the ground and ran to wake his parents and sisters, presenting them all with cards made from red and green construction paper.

 _"This one is_ "Merry Christmas, I love you"" he pronounced carefully, " _and that's_ "Buon Natale, ti amo" _in English_ " The boy beamed as he explained the cards and told his family how he had made them himself with his English teacher. The rest day was spent together, opening gifts and eating too much food. Their parents surprised his sisters and him with brand new ice skates and the family spent the evening in the city, skating by the huge, sparkling Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. Antonio decided that he liked Christmas in New York quite a lot.

* * *

**Spot (Nine years)**

Sean shivered, pulling his knees closer to his chest as a gust of wind chilled him to the bone. It has been a particularly cold winter and it was only getting worse. He peered out from where he was huddled in a corner, between two small stores, trying to avoid the wind as best as he could. There were people walking up and down the street, talking and laughing and enjoying the night. He stared longingly at their warm coats, if only he could be that rich. He pulled his own coat more tightly around him, wishing it would do more good. It wasn't a winter coat like the people on the street had. Rather, it was a huge purple hoodie that had been left at a patio table in the fall. The hoodie was large enough to cover almost all of his small body and he curled up to let it cover him down to his feet. The sheer size of the sweater made him feel safe, wrapping it around himself to hide from the rest of the world like he used to in his father's arms, as he began to doze off, quickly slipping into an all too familiar nightmare, a memory really. His father was gone. A factory accident, they'd said. Sean was on the floor in his bedroom, trying desperately to choke back the tears that had been pouring down freely before. He stared, wide-eyed with fear, at his mother.

"Suck it up Sean. Boys don't cry."

When he woke, Sean could almost still feel his whole-body throbbing. He took a deep breath and attempted to steel himself against the tears that he felt behind his eyes. Boys didn't cry. Crying was weak and boys weren't supposed to be weak. Even as he sat awake, resting his head on his knees, he could hear his mother ordering him to suck it up, he could feel the pain as he was hit with whatever it was she could grab first. Sean pulled his sweater more tightly around him.

It was Christmas day. It was supposed to be special. So where was the magic?


	3. Other Children

**Race (Seven years)**

Antonio gazed down at the infant in his arms. Sophia was so tiny. He had been so excited when he found out that his mum was coming home from the hospital and almost more excited to be meeting his little sister. With Sophia being released from the NICU on Christmas eve, the holiday had been put ever so slightly on a back burner. Antonio, at only seven years old, had been in a bitter mood for days after hearing that their Christmas would have to be different again. His parents had been worried that their son would resent his baby sister. When Sophia came home however, Antonio knew that it was the best Christmas present he'd ever gotten.

 _"Hi Sophia."_ he grinned down at his sister, who was calm in his arms, _"My name's Antonio. You can call me Racetrack if you want. That's what my best friend Albert calls me. He's the best. You're going to meet him soon, on New year's. You're going to love him. He doesn't hear too good but that's okay because you don't talk."_ Race's babbling was interrupted by his father clearing his throat.

_"Toni? It's time for bed buddy. For both of you."_

_"Can I help you put Sophi to bed?"_

_"Sure Tonio. Let's go."_

That Christmas eve, Antonio "Racetrack" Higgins fell asleep with a wide smile on his face, for more reasons than just the holiday.

* * *

**Spot (Eleven years)**

Sean looked around the room, watching all the other kids from his position in the corner. They all looked like they were having fun, eating and playing games. Plenty of the adults had asked him to join in, get involved. He’d told them fuck off.

Sean hated the shelters. Didn’t like staying in the same place with the same people for long periods of time; that was dangerous, they could take advantage and hurt you. When a kid like him walked into one of the places he’d have to come in with an adult or they’d try to throw you into some group home or something. Sean wasn’t interested in that at all, he did his own thing, alone. And he was fine.

So he’d been avoiding shelters as much as he could.

Now though, nearly a week into his Christmas break from school, without the provided lunches every day, he hadn’t been able to hold out any longer. He was hungry and he was tired and he figured he could slip in and out around the Christmas crowd; they might not notice him at all.

But how wrong he was, he thought as he sat in his corner, having been duped into joining some kids party they were throwing. One of those “bring some joy into these poor children's lives because where would they be without us interfering” kinds of events.

He hated it.

There were too many kids and the one consistent look all the adults gave him was dripping with pity.

Fuck them. He didn’t need their pity nor did he want or deserve it.

But he couldn’t leave. He was too young and there was no one around who could claim him as their son to get him out. He had no options.

So for the first time in his life, on Christmas Eve of all days, Sean Conlon spent the night in a rundown old shelter, sharing a room with fifteen other kids who didn’t dare speak to the scowling boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the last chapter I have all written at this point. Will I post tomorrow? Who knows! Not me. Because where's the fun in predictability?


	4. New Places 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's a little late, but it's a long one, so forgive me. :-)

** Race (Sixteen years old) **

Race stood anxiously, looking up at the enormous house in front of him. It may not have been a real mansion, but compared to the little two-bedroom house he shared with his parents and little sisters, it was basically Versailles.

It was the first time in years that his family wasn’t all together on Christmas Eve. With Rosanna and Caterina visiting in-laws and Gianna working, they’d decided to hold the main festivities off until everyone was together on Christmas day. Thanks to his newly acquired availability, Race found himself clutching a large container of homemade cookies and starting to wonder if he’d even brought enough.

Any other year, he’d never have been able to accept the invitation to Albert’s new boyfriend's family’s Christmas Eve party. Race had met Finch a few times and he was nice enough. He’d also pretty well known he was kind of rich based on the fancy private school he went to and all the expensive little clothes and electronics Race hadn’t been able to help noticing. Albert had also been to the Cortes' house a few times and told Race how cool it was. But he hadn’t expected it to be this _big_. It was like a castle. He could only imagine the kinds of people who’d be in there. He was sure he’d be under dressed even though his mama had made sure he’d put on the nicest clothes he owned. He tugged a little at his jacket, it was the only thing he had that still fit from Rosanna's wedding. He’d have to get something new before Cat's.

Just as he was starting to think he should ring the bell again, the door was flung open by one very excited redhead.

“Racer!”

“Al!” He cringed, grin not faltering in the slightest, as he looked his best friend up and down. “ _That’s_ what you wear to a fancy party?” True to form, Albert had made Race look great with his clothing choices. Where Race’s mama wouldn’t dare let him go to a fancy party without his best slacks and properly bushed hair, Mr. DaSilva was generally happy as long as his boys wore pants. Probably shirt too at a nice place like this.

Finch grinned, watching his boyfriend sputter in defense of his sweatshirt before quickly giving up. “I was going to let him borrow some of my stuff. Al said you’d look nice, and he was right as usual. But I still figured we’d wait and see if you wanted to play dress up too. Or just watch this idiot try to figure out formal clothing.” Race laughed.

“There is nothing I love more than watching Albert be an idiot. Oh! But first,” he held up the container in his hands, “Is there somewhere I can put these?”

Finch looked into the container of cookies, “You made all these yourself?”

“He makes the absolute best food on the face of the earth. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried the cannoli cookie.”

Race giggled, trying to fight back a blush as he smacked Albert’s arm. “Yeah I did. My mama thought me when I was pretty little. Hers are way better.”

“That’s awesome man, my parents can’t cook for shit.” Finch grinned, “I’ll just stick them in the kitchen so they’ll get put out. You guys can just head up to my room. I’ll meet you there.”

The night went by fairly quickly. As he’d warned them he might, Finch got shanghaied into being a proper host partway though the night and had to go talk about his grades and things with his parents society friends for a while, but managed to get Race and Albert away before people tried to meet his boyfriend and friend. Around nine thirty, they’d managed to sneak back up to Finch’s enormous bedroom with a ton of popcorn and the rest of Race’s cookies to watch movies and play dumb games.

By the time Albert’s dad picked them up around midnight, Race had fully decided that Christmas was just as great spent with friends as it was with family.

* * *

** Spot (Fifteen years) **

Christmas morning, 2005. Children everywhere were waking up to Christmas gifts and family brunches. Adults were smiling as they watched their children open the gifts they’d picked out specifically for them. It was a beautiful time filled with excitement and new adventures for the lucky people of New York.

The first thing Spot registered when he woke up that morning was the beeping. Slow, steady beeping coming from… somewhere. He wasn’t sure. Everything felt a little off actually. Faraway and hazy. He just wanted to go back to sleep. He was far more comfortable than usual. It was odd. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a real bed. Though he wasn’t sure why he was in one now either…

“Oh, you’re awake. Merry Christmas.” Spot pried his eyes open; a mistake, he discovered as he was assaulted by bright white lights, he had such a headache. There was a lady looking at him. She didn’t look to have any malicious intent but then, that hadn’t meant much before. Everyone had something to gain from him or they wouldn’t bother paying him any attention. She smiled gently, “How are you feeling?”

He was feeling like shit. He was sore and dizzy, his left side ached like hell, his head was pounding and his right arm just felt _all kinds_ of wrong, though he couldn’t pinpoint what the issue was. All he wanted was to go back to sleep and never wake up.

But he wasn’t going to tell this lady all that. Who was she to ask him for his business?

He fixed her with his best glare before turning away.

He heard the lady sigh and there was a rumpling of paper before “Can I get your name? The man at the bar called you “Spot”, so that’s what we’ve been calling you. Could I get your real name for the paperwork?” So, they’d talked to Jimmy. That had to be who they meant. Jimmy was the night manager of the old bar he’d been staying around lately. Jimmy had found him on the street and had let him stay in the bar until closing time every night since. He was nice to him, had given him his nickname since Spot wouldn’t give him his real one. So, he was probably safe where he was. But that didn’t mean this lady would learn his name.

“Jimmy’s right.”

The lady looked confused. “I’m sorry?”

He sighed. He really did not want to talk to this woman any longer.

“My name. Spot. He’s right.”

“Your name is Spot?” The lady- the nurse, he’d realized- looked doubtful. It wasn’t doing his temper any favours.

“Ain’t that what I said?” He snapped, before turning away again. She was really starting to grate at his patience. “Why am I here.”

The nurse’s voice quickly turned to pity.

“Do you not remember anything of what happened?” God, he hated pity.

“if I knew, why would I bother asking.” The nurse sighed lightly at the return of his snappish responses.

“Mr. Heartly, Jimmy as you called him, told us he saw you fighting a man out back of the bar. Apparently he caught glimpse of a knife. He didn’t see much before going to break it up but you were unconscious when we got there.”

He remembered that vaguely. The bastard had said something to him. He didn’t remember what but it had made him mad. He knew he’d thrown the first punch. He knew that he’d had the upper hand for a good couple of minutes, despite the man having had at least two decades on him. He’d always been a good fighter.

The rest was sort of blurry. The man had pulled a knife. That would explain the aching in his side. He vaguely remembered being grabbed. And he’d definitely hit the wall at some point.

It had hurt. He remembered that. It was like his being back home with mother after all the years he’d spent avoiding it. But there was something to it. The rush of adrenaline that came with tearing into a man twice his size. Looking back and knowing that he’d have been able to take him, had the asshole not pulled a knife.

The nurse explained the overview of his injuries: concussion, dislocated shoulder, a shallow gash in his side, as well as many cuts and bruises. He’d have to stay the night for observation.

Christmas day for Spot Conlon didn’t come with presents and friends and family brunch. Excitement was a luxury he’d given up on years ago. But to spend the night in the hospital, beaten and bloodied from a fight he’d almost won… This was certainly a new adventure.

So maybe, he thought, as whatever new drugs she’d given him started to kick in, maybe he wasn’t so different from all the other kids…


End file.
